Slave Immigrant Ch. 10

After receiving a cloned body I immigrated 127 Light Years from Earth to Free Skyes. Unfortunately I had to work and pay for that cloned body and I had very few skills a high tech society could use. So it was either I become an Unskilled Labourer or a Sex Slave. I guess Human Recourses had figured out my profile alright. All those years in BDSM chat-rooms and websites were tracked alright, but not by Homeland Security. I was a 24/7 Bonded Sex Slave with a 5 million credit debt to pay off. Worse still I didn't have any say on how or what I would be doing, I wasn't a citizen. After taking a Citizenship Test all that changed.

After what I think was some pretty intense testing it looked like I was going to get a three day weekend off. I mean not everybody has the Director of the Boom-boom Room have you for a sexy three day sleep-over. Better still she wanted to be a slave and me the Dom. I was looking forward to sitting back, watching TV and having my cock sucked whenever I wanted. Boy was I wrong.

What was supposed to be a relaxing three day weekend turned into a combination of hell and tension? I make a wrong move and BAM! Her Android Bruno the high and mighty Mark Twelve sex android is beating the hell out of my ass. I kept forgetting I'm Marcy McDermott's Boy-Toy there for her pleasure. I never considered being a Dom was such hard work. The worst was when I was taken into her condo's garden bent over a man-size saw-horse made of logs, tied down, flogged, and left in the morning sun for any passer-by to see. But she didn't live in a condo; it was one of the guest houses of her father's mansion. For all I knew her father could be on the other side of the hedge watching what was going on? Good thing he gave her privacy, I was spanking, flogging, buggering, and fucking the heck out of her for the past two days.

To make the story even more complicated Marcy is no longer the Director of the Boom-boom Room but promoted to sales of sex slave contracts. With thirty more new slaves from Earth coming in she has to make room in the hotel. The Boom-boom Room Interplanetary is making record profits and just has to have a party celebrating what Daddy McDermott has been up to. He figures his daughter would be embarrassed at having her career as a Hotel Manager side-tracked so he invited her and her boyfriend to the party. So we're going to surprise him and fight back.

"You look fine," assured Marcy as she headed towards the front door.

"I look like a poor imitation of Elvis," I said to her as we stopped at the main entrance to the Mansion. "And I'm not wearing this silly wig," I added taking it off.

"But sir," insisted Bruno picking up the wig, "that's the fashion; all new singing sensations consider it good luck to dress like Clone-Elvis Tornado. He was legendary in copying Elvis Presley movies from Earth and making them into Free Skyes entertainment."

"This is insane," I explained to Marcy, "an Earthman, imitating a Free Skyes Entertainer who made a reputation by imitating a famous Earthman. Can I at least show something creative?"

"Alright," agreed Marcy, "but keep the pants on, they look good."

"As you wish Mistress," I smiled tossing the Elton John glasses. I then ditched the jewellery except the gigolo ring, scarf and I left the collar open.

"You're showing off you're a Bonded Slave," asked Marcy.

"Yes," I smiled, "I just wished I have one that said I'm the property of Marcy McDermott."

"Rule number one of business," she smiled and kissed me, "don't get addicted to the product."

She turned and headed into the Mansion. Marcy was dressed to the nines, long sleeveless silk dress with a daring slits up both side and no jewellery. I buttoned up my shirt, no reason to show off my chest, it has been shaved bare since the day I arrived at Free Skyes. The entrance was quite the site to see. Real wood carved interior that showed class, and crass, the carving were of naked men and women in one long orgy that went up the columns to the ceiling. Two armed guards in light battle armour stood by the door. Security scanners were used to see if we carried weapons or recording devises.

"The Androids check out," said one guards, "company property." Bruno and Mandy were naked, and it seemed appropriate.

"Nice to see you Mistress Marcy," said the second. "You sure you want to come in here? They said you're responsible for the mess, we can't see how."

"Oh I'm the whipping girl of the month," smiled Marcy as she blew kisses at both. "And don't let Mister Charlie talking nice to me you you'll both be on Transport Duty."

"Yes Ma'am," they both said. The first stopped me and looked at his scanner as he turned me around.

"A glass Chastity belt," he whistled. "Why cover it up with pants?"

"Because I still own that ass," said Marcy dragging me away from the two.

"Why can't we fuck a nice ass like that," I heard one say to the other.

"Because we don't make enough to buy it now," said the second. "We still had Boy-Toy Singer."

"I still get horny watching his videos," said the first.

"Hi little brother," laughed a voice.

We turned and saw Prince Johnass Fracisco von Studdlebock, inside his punishment cube. A prise possession of the Boom-boom Room Interplanetary was to be entrusted with the care and punishment of the fallen Dictator of the Middle Kingdom. Normally it cost one credit to whip the dictator, that evening guest could come and do it for free. Several businessmen, women, and servicemen all from the Middle Kingdom would whip him and even have pictures to take home.

"Why does he keep calling me little brother," I had to ask Marcy.

"Because you have a smaller penis than him," she laughed.

"A Bonded Slave as a house guest," said a deep voiced Officer from the Middle Kingdom who glared down his long dark nose at me. "Mistress Marcy," he snapped and bowelled like a Prussian Officer to her, "the Imperial Brothel is a drab and weary place without you."

"Count Zoibe," she crooned and lifted her cheek for him to kiss. "If we were in private I'd let you kiss my lower cheeks."

"I would gladly do so right her," he smiled. Then glared at me and told her "even before this worthless slave."

"Careful," she smile, "he's my new boyfriend and slated for Admiral Speedwell's use."

"I've heard the rumours," he said appraising me. Oh he was big, built like a power forward for the Boston Celtics. Grey Commando Uniform, braids, badges, high polished boots, cape, cap with lots of scrambled eggs on it, and armed with a laser-sword, a talent. "Too bad I took a vowel of chastity. I would love to look inside your mind and figure out why an Ancient would be fascinated by a photo of you."

"Lucky me," I smiled nervously, "you guys from the Middle Kingdom are just so big."

"Oh," he said taking my hand and making me feel the bulge in his pants. "It's not that kind of chastity. I just can't use my talent and invade your mind. Pity though I don't deal with sex slaves who are used by rowdy common spacemen. But since they promoted you, you may be of a class I would like to spend time with."

"I'll brush up on my high class cooking," I stammered wondering how hard he would hit.

"Oh Pontiac," Marcy whispered into my ear and winked at the Count. "He relaxes like me. Punish him well and he'll jerk off on your ass and lick it off." The Count gave an embarrassed smile and nodded to me.

"Count Zoibe," said a loud voice of a man who considered that he was very important, "good to see you."

"Duty calls," smiled the Count who turned away and politely greeted the loudmouth.

"So what do we do next," I asked taking a drink off a tray from a passing waiter coolly.

"Try not to get in trouble," said Marcy taking the drink away from me. "Get him Root Beer," she told Mandy.

"Those things are energy drinks," I whispered to her, "one sip and my dick is screaming."

"Consider it a mild punishment," Bruno said into my ear as Marcy ignored me while leading me through the crowd.

"Marcy," laughed a polite voice.

"Uncle Paul," she laughed as she greeted an older gentleman. He was from Free Skyes and didn't get a nose job. However his tuxedo was expensive enough to say he had money.

"Pontiac meet Uncle Paul," she smiled showing me the older gent. For some reason he reminded me of Mel Brooks.

"Wow the famous singer," he laughed in a mock outrage, "put her there." I shook hands with a joy-buzzer that shocked me to my toes. "What a fool," he laughed.

"Uncle Paul, use to have the most famous comedy show on Free Skyes," Marcy explained.

"So not all the McDermott's are into Hotels," I smiled.

"Oh boy is he fresh off the ship," he laughed. "My stage name is Uncle Paul," he explained.

"So you're a retired entertainer, here to liven up the party?"

"I may have to punish you right here," hissed Marcy, "Uncle Paul is the owner of Live Action Network."

"Live Action Network," I gasped and fell to my knees, "forgive me Master I'm such a Miserable slave." I made loud kissing noises at his feet.

"Hey I'm no religious object," he said dancing away.

"Fool," I laughed pointing at him. Marcy gagged on her drink and Uncle Paul nearly fell on the floor rolling with laughter.

"Oh great Lord," he chuckled and helped me to my feet. "You should work for me."

"When I'm a free man I'll look you up."

"What that collar is for real," he asked fingering my collar.

"I'm surprised," said Marcy, "one of your stars has put up a bond on him."

"Who?"

"Dianna Chankor," she explained, "she and her husband put a million credit bond for him."

"You mean if I come up with a million plus credits I could have this guy on staff?"

"He's a bonded sex slave Uncle Paul, he had no skills."

"Hummm," he said then felt my crotch, "what's this: a chastity belt?"

"Oh," smiled Marcy as he pushed me towards a side-table, "drop'em and bend over the table."

It wasn't an unusual request, the ornate side tables were used just for that reason. Some men and women were bending over for a few light spanks or even sex. Uncle Paul paused for a long time and talked quietly to Marcy. If it wasn't for all the noise in the room I would have heard what was going on. They turned me around and he admired my penis.

"You are a mystery," Uncle Paul told me as he helped me pull up my underpants and trousers. Strangely he gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll be seeing you."

"What was that all about," I asked as he continued to mingle.

"He just might adopt you," said Marcy.

"What?"

"Pontiac Jones," gushed a young lady wearing a dark blue evening gown. "Oh please spank me," he lifter her gown and bent over a side table revealing her naked ass.

"Tramp," said Marcy leading me away. "She probably threw her panties at somebody else."

The party was something Hugh Marston Hefner would have wet dreams over. Music Producers who counted number one record by the number of star systems their performers worked. Uncle Paul was the local Media mogul, but representatives from Free Zones on other systems came to pay homage to Marcy's Father. High Officers of the Governor's Fleets came to thank him for providing over three hundred Talented Officers. Larger more powerful industrialist kept vacation villas in the Free Zones came by to do business as well.

This didn't stop a friendly hand or two patting me on the behind. I turned smile and a woman grabbed me and kissed me full on the mouth. Not many women can kiss you and hug you to heaven, but this one did. She pulled back, it was Whitney.

"Hi Paul," she laughed.

"Ma-ma," cried Marcy turning with surprise. The two hugged and cried. "You came."

"Well I had to check out you new boyfriend in the flesh," Whitney laughed, "Before you lose him."

"There's Daddy," warned Marcy.

"I see you met my wife Mister Jones," said Daddy McDermott. "Why is her hand in your pants?" I gulped, Whitney must have hated him she was digging her nails in me.

"Former wife," said Whitney offering her hand to him. "Ever the charmer," she said to me.

With the greatest act or respect he bowed to kiss her hand. She turned her hand over and he kissed her palm. Which I may add was the same palm caressing my ass a few moments ago. He appeared unconcerned.

"Well Mister Pontiac Jones," he smiled at me, "I'm surprised to see you here; did you come to entertain us?"

"Yea," I smiled, "figured I'd head to the dance floor and sing a set with the band."

"I have a better idea," he smiles, "why don't we all take a good close-up look at what Admiral Speedwell is paying fifteen thousand credits for. Bruno: strip him and hand him up near the dance floor."

"Ah wait a minute," I said ducking away from Bruno. "You don't want your Class Twelve Android and you look like a fool now do you?"

"Dodging an android will only make things worse for you," Daddy McDermott snapped.

"Oh John let him sing for me," pleaded Whitney.

Bruno moved again, but he was programmed to take down unskilled slaves and I've learned a lot in the past few weeks. I scooped up another drink, liquor in one hand and a flaming d'oeuvre in the other. I tossed the drink into Bruno's eyes and set fire to its face. The machine was momentarily blinded.

"Come on John," I laughed, "don't be a fool, I can beat this android."

"I'll forfeit the worthless fifteen hundred and have you flogged," he snapped.

Turning I kicked Bruno in the ass. The android wildly turned flailing its arms and hitting a service android carrying a tray full of pastries. Thank goodness Marcy and Whitney were good sports. The whole family got pied by flying pastries.

The chase was on as I ran out of reception room one and across the hall to another room. It was a smoking longue. I peeled off my jacket and pick one off a chair and pulled it on. I tried to blend in and bumped into a tall fellow.

"Excuse me Captain," said Count Zoibe, then in surprise, "Pontiac."

"Shhh," I told him quickly, "I'm trying to escape from a mad Android."

"Oh I hate androids, here have a cigar."

"Thanks," the end was clipped I took a few puffs, "taste like something from Earth."

"Here wear my cap," another officer offered.

"Thanks," I nodded; it was two sizes too large. "I'll try to grow into it." They all chuckled as Bruno wearing a pair of eyes he took out of another android stormed into the room.

"Everybody in hale," said the Count as the five officers cigars all glowed.

"I can still smell you out Mister Jones," bellowed Bruno.

"Oh blow off," I said, just as the officers blew a bellow of smoke into the face of the Android. Meanwhile I ran behind a curtain and through a hidden door.

For a moment I thought I ran into another bathroom as my coat was pulled off me. I was in a sea of hands and mouth fondling and kissing me. Within moments I was down to my underpants and chastity belt.

"This slave is wearing a chastity belt," a number of voices cursed.

"Darn servants throw him out of here."

Well at least they didn't throw me back into the smoking room. I ran down a corridor and into another room. Fuck! I found the armed guards lounge.

"Who da fuck are you," a guy with several stripes on his arm asked.

"Obviously this is not the tease party," I said backing out.

"Hey that's Pontiac Jones!"

"Da boss put a thousand credit bounty on his ass."

"A thousand credits," I snapped. "That cheep bastard, I'll double it to each one of you to let me go."

"With what," said the nearest guard holding up a transaction computer.

"Two thousand credit bribe," I said into the speaker waving my Gigolo Ring at it.

"Transaction Complete," chirped the machine.

Eleven thousand credits later and a peek at my ass, I had let the room with a guard uniform on complete with vizored helmet fake gun and police baton. Like all the other guards and any free Android I was looking for me. Occasionally I would open my visor and snicker at an obvious camera. Eventually I found the McDermott family this time with a platoon of guards surrounding the old man. So I joined him.

"Where is he," he yelled into a cell phone.

I stood behind him opened my visor and stuck out my tongue. He turned I closed the visor and nudged the guard next to me. The unsuspecting guard turned to see an enraged John McDermott.

"Arrest him!"

"Who, who?"

"Him! that's Pontiac Jones!"

A wrestling match ensured and three of the guards were soon handcuffed and had their helmets taken off. This made the old man even more enraged. I had a great idea.

"Jones is wearing a glass chastity belt; everybody pull down your pants," I shouted in my Sergeant-Major voice.

"Do it," encouraged several others.

Talk about funny. Three of the guards were wearing chastity belts. Two were wearing diapers. Several wearing filly thongs and welts on their pink bottoms. Various others were going commando and well, I was already out the door.

"Somebody needs to be changed," said Whitney as she patted a burley sergeant on the diapered bottom.

"Pull your pants up," the Sergeant ordered.

"Well here's his uniform," said John McDermott as he picked up the dis-guarded uniform. "Can you sent track him," he asked Bruno.

"It would be better if I had his collar GPS locater code," said Bruno.

"I forgot about that," snapped John. "Where's his room android, Mandy's right here," added spinning about.

"It is over here," said Marcy pointing to Mandy sitting in a chair stiff as a statue. "I deactivated it. Daddy one class eight sex slave is ruining your party. Guest are throwing pies at your security guards, tripping Bruno and some are leaving."

"What a party," said Uncle Paul as he walked into the room with pie on his face. "I haven't had fun like this since we tried to re-create the great pie-fight of Earth Hollywood 1927. McDermott all the other media outlets including mine are wrong: you throw a great party. Hey can you release a video of the party this is great."

"Be a good idea JT," said a cigar puffer in an expensive business suit.

"We got over half the board of directors here tonight," said another. "Good publicity for the company."

"Well we don't have any media staff here at the moment," said JT.

"Oh hell anybody who's watched TV can do that," I said climbing out from under a table that hand a full table cloth. "Let me into your security media room and in fifteen minutes I'll have a three minute montage complete with music."

"You can do that," asked Uncle Paul.

"Anybody who's played with video players on Earth can do that," I smiled. "I bet I can make you laugh Johnny."

"JONES," bellowed Bruno as it rushed into the room and ran straight towards me.

"Quasna-an-hunt," screeched Miss Naughty Panty-puss to the Android and then dodged aside. I dodged aside too as Bruno crumpled into a collapsed mass. "Forgive me Master JT," she nodded to him and then went to the fallen Bruno and ripped off its scalp showing the flashing red lights. "But you Mark Twelve has broken down. It has misinterpreted your last instructions. The machine's intent was to kill. Give this miserable servant three hours to repair it, at the usual fees."

"Kill," gasped TJ, a servant android quickly brought him a chair to sit on. "I couldn't kill a person."

"That why we have rigorous testing," I quickly explained. "My military career and training were not in my portfolio. If things went bad we still have the Noble Count Zoibe here to deal with it."

"Why don't we pass out some towels," said the cigar chomped, "and free cleaning for our guest to freshen up while Mister Jones here edits us a little video. If we think it is funny enough he can sing a set.Under certain conditions."

"Conditions," I asked.

"Don't worries about that," said the cigar man, "just do a good job. Marcy; show him where the Security Control is located."

"Who is he," I asked her.